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Coincidence or fate?
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Just as the whisper of “Hey, can I borrow a pencil?” was leaving my mouth, my eyes landed upon a pencil on the ground. It was one of the standard, school bus yellow, wooden pencils. The brand printed along the hexagonal face in black serif font, in this case a generic OfficeMax (R) brand followed by the infamous No. 2. The shiny silver end glinted from the floor, perhaps that’s what first caught my eye. The pencil was in mint condition, perhaps it had only been sharpened a few times in its career, but it was quite blunt. The eraser, a blushing shade of pink, had seen its share of misspellings and inaccurate mathematical operations. There was still a hint of graphite smudge on the end. I picked it up, and the wood felt foreign to my fingers, which have grown accustomed to grasping plastic mechanical pencils. But it wasn’t so bad. And for moment that I eyed the pencil up and down, dissecting its form and writing descriptive narrative in my brain, I pondered. Fate or coincidence?